


Tell-tale Hearts

by Sylindara



Series: Overexposure [1]
Category: World Trigger
Genre: M/M, Some depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylindara/pseuds/Sylindara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? - The Tell-tale Heart (Edgar Allen Poe)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Side: Kikuchihara

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I think Border either has the best psychologists/counselors known to man or their agents are so traumatised they wrap all the way back around to functional again.

In front of the class, the history teacher drones on at the board about foreign trade in the Heian period. Behind him, two girls moan about boycotting a particular brand of markers because the company upped the price. Off to the side, a bunch of boys snigger about the fact that the teacher’s toupee is slipping. Kikuchihara slides down in his seat and stares down at his desk.

He’s better than this, to be distracted by something so trivial. He can endure so much more. And yet, Kikuchihara cannot stop himself from closing his eyes, his concentration zeroing on a specific heartbeat sitting near the door. Utagawa’s heart thumps slowly and steadily, the beat of an athlete – and someone on the verge of sleep. They had stayed up late last night, working on their homework into the early morning because they had been on duty earlier that day.

The teacher’s trousers rustle as he approaches. Kikuchihara opens his eyes just in time to hear him say snottily, “If you are not feeling well, you are welcome to spend the rest of the lesson in the infirmary. Only people concentrating on my lecture are needed in this classroom.”

Utagawa wrenches himself out of his chair before Kikuchihara can say anything. “I’ll take him to the infirmary, Suzuki-sensei. We were on duty yesterday so he’s probably just tired.”

Suzuki-sensei narrows his eyes. But he’s not dumb enough to actually say anything, not if he wants to keep his job at a school affiliated with Border.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Kikuchihara scoffs. “If you leave as well, whose notes am I going to copy off of when we go to Border today?”

Utagawa gets the hint, sitting back down at his desk with nothing more than a worried look. Kikuchihara slips out of the door before Suzuki-sensei gives him a warning for insolence or something.

The nurse at the infirmary is unsurprised to see him; she has been provided with a list of Border agents at the school and their schedules as part of her job, she knows why he is here. It’s not the first time Kikuchihara skips class to stay in the infirmary in the days following an expedition.

The nurse knows of his Side Effect, keeping her movements slow and quiet as he lies down in one of the beds and closes the curtain. That’s why coming here is a bad idea. It is too quiet; only the presence of one other living person in the room. It can’t distract him from the echoes of punctured lungs and shrill crying. But staying in the classroom will just invite more condescension from the teacher.

Kikuchihara closes his eyes, thinks of Utagawa’s heartbeat, and endures.

* * *

Kikuchihara is crouching behind the dumpster, Utagawa a familiar presence in front of him. A familiar but invisible presence with Chameleon activated. Kikuchihara has done the same, the stealth trigger hiding both his form and the trion steadily trailing from where the half caved-in shoulder where his right arm used to be. It is only a matter of time before either the wound or the Chameleon uses up his trion to the point where Kikuchihara’s trion body can no longer keep going. But he can’t deactivate it yet.

Beyond the dumpster, a soldier jeers something at the young urchin flailing in his grasp. He had been playing with the child for the last five minutes, Kikuchihara and Utagawa an unwilling audience stuck while the soldier blocks the entrance of the alley.

Finally, Kikuchihara hears the tearing of cloth and the child’s increasing shrieks of terror. He can’t tell what gender the urchin is, but it has been obvious all along what the soldier is planning. Kikuchihara has more important concerns; Utagawa is slowly, but audibly, shuffling forwards.

Kikuchihara flings out a hand, but it is too late. The two of them are out of the shadow of the dumpster just in time to see the urchin stab a giant knife into the soldier’s chest. The soldier must have turned back into his normal body; stupid, it just makes you vulnerable.

They watch as the soldier lie in a puddle of his own blood; the child crouches above him, stained in his blood, crying hysterically as she? he? stabs wildly at the dead body.

It is a dream, Kikuchihara knows, but also a memory. One he does not remember the ending of.

Kikuchihara wakes in his room, the time on his phone telling him it is the middle of the night. There is a text from Utagawa, the notification waking him up.

_I had another one._

That is all Kikuchihara needs to know. He gathers up all the things he need for school and changes into his school uniform; he won’t be coming back here until school ends tomorrow.

He doesn’t bother leaving a note; the only place he would go to in the middle of the night is Utagawa’s house. It’s habit, by this point.

Kikuchihara even has his own copy of Utagawa’s key; using it to open and then lock the front door, leaving his shoes at the entrance as he makes his way soundlessly through the shadowy hallway to Utagawa’s room. Utagawa’s parents are never home when he calls Kikuchihara over, but even knowing that he cannot bring himself to break the silence.

Utagawa is already waiting for him in the unlit room, sitting on the side of the bed and naked as the day he was born. Kikuchihara drops his bag near the door, then tiptoes over to the bed. He lets Utagawa undress him, fingers moving nimbly as they work through the buttons, but not enough to hide the slight tremors that wrack them.

Kikuchihara stays silent, waiting as Utagawa folds and deposits the clothes off to one side. They climb into bed together, skin entwining with skin to remind each other that this is reality; they are human in human bodies capable of human pain and human warmth.

Kikuchihara lies his head down on Utagawa’s chest, letting the beat of his heart fill every nook and cranny inside himself. Utagawa has his own ways of coping; Kikuchihara can feel a hand coming up to rest in his hair.

Utagawa calling him over means he must have dreamed as well. The question is, “Which one was it?”

There is a small pause, and then – as if a little embarrassed – Utagawa says, “Our first expedition. Those corpses we went through.”

“How virginal,” Kikuchihara says huffily, trying to pretend his heart didn’t skip a beat on being reminded of it.

“That insult doesn’t even make sense,” Utagawa says exasperatedly, but does not stop the hand combing through Kikuchihara’s hair.

“It makes perfect sense,” Kikuchihara retorts, pinching at Utagawa’s chest hairs.

“Stop that.” Utagawa slaps lightly at the hand on his chest.

“Toughen up,” is all Kikuchihara says in response. He flicks at an exposed nipple. In the darkness, he can just barely see it starting to harden.

The hand in his hair pauses, then Utagawa asks slowly, “Do you want to have sex…?”

Kikuchihara can hear both of their hearts speeding up. But it’s not loud enough to drown out the squelch of metal piercing a living chest. Or the sobbing as the child keeps stabbing long after the body has stopped moving. “Not really.” Belatedly, reluctantly, Kikuchihara asks, “Do you?”

Utagawa breaths in, out, then in again. “Not really.”

Kikuchihara buries his nose into Utagawa’s chest, taking in the refreshing scent of Utagawa’s body wash. Above him, Utagawa’s hand starts sliding through his hair again; the rhythmical movements blending with the swish of Kikuchihara’s hair falling into place. Finally, he can feel Utagawa’s body starting to relax.

“Thanks for coming,” Utagawa says into Kikuchihara’s hair.

Kikuchihara hums in response; the clear thumping of Utagawa’s heart is finally making his brain slow down.

“Go to sleep,” says Utagawa, so quietly even Kikuchihara’s ears almost doesn’t pick up on it.

“Mmph,” says Kikuchihara. He doesn’t need Utagawa to tell him that.

* * *

Kikuchihara wakes up the next morning to a loud buzzing with his hair in his mouth and Utagawa snoring ever so quietly above him. Kikuchihara rolls off the broad chest he had fallen asleep on and picks up his vibrating phone.

The phone display tells him it is 6.30am in the morning; Kikuchihara yawns quietly as he turns off the alarm. There is plenty of time for them to get up and eat breakfast before going to school.

Utagawa is still sleeping after Kikuchihara returns from brushing his teeth, a pair of Utagawa’s sweatpants the only thing preserving his dignity. He kneels on the bed, looking down at Utagawa’s peaceful face. Stretching out a hand, it hovers for a moment before tangling in the tufts of bed hair. He can’t quite manage the same smooth moments as Utagawa, but it’s not like it matters with hair this short.

“I can tell you’re awake,” Kikuchihara announces as the heartbeat under him quickens. He is not quite looking at Utagawa’s face, so he can't tell what expression the other is sporting.

“What time is it?” Utagawa says sleepily, one hand coming up to grab at Kikuchihara’s hand in his hair. Kikuchihara watches as Utagawa moves the hand to his chest, cupping it within his own hands.

“It’s almost seven,” says Kikuchihara, gently curling and uncurling the hand, brushing it against Utagawa’s. “If you don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late for school.”

“It’s too good a morning for your complaining,” Utagawa says, vestiges of sleep still clinging to his smile. He sits up, a smooth motion that shows off his abs and makes Kikuchihara want to tsk. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Toast is fine,” Kikuchihara says idly, pulling away to start changing into his uniform. He watches appreciatively, if a little enviously, as Utagawa ambles out of the room towards the bathroom still naked. Utagawa isn’t as obsessed with training or muscles as someone like Reiji, but he keeps himself fit and it shows.

Kikuchihara finishes tying his tie, gathers up his schoolbag, and trudges down to the kitchen. He has been in Utagawa’s house often enough to know exactly where everything is.

By the time Utagawa reaches the kitchen himself, the toast has just popped up and Kikuchihara is shovelling scrambled egg from the frying pan onto two plates.

“Nice,” Utagawa says appreciatively, adding the toast to the plates as well. “I’ll make a quick salad. I think there’s still some juice in the fridge, pour it out?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kikuchihara rolls his eyes. He dumps the pan in the sink to soak, and gets out the juice. “Aren’t you in a disgustingly good mood.”

Utagawa hums happily as he dumps cherry tomatoes into two bowls of fresh lettuce. “I said it’s a good morning, didn’t I? I like being domestic together.”

Kikuchihara scowls down at the picturesque breakfast laid out between them. “I guess I don’t dislike being here with you.”

Utagawa doesn’t even look phased. “Good enough.”


	2. Side: Utagawa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worry this is 1) not connected to the side effect theme enough and 2) too full of headcanon that's going to get jossed at some point.

At school, Utagawa gets a lot of disbelief for willingly being with Kikuchihara all the time. He has been asked, more than once, why he chooses to stick around someone so negative and off-putting. 'What are you getting out of it?' 'You'd be so much more popular without him hanging around!' 'What's so good about him?' Usually, Utagawa just glosses over the issue with a smile. It's not their business why he does what he does and they're not asking the right questions anyway.

At Border, Utagawa gets pity instead. Usually from people who think they know what's going on. People who feel so sorry for him because they think he has to play nice, because Kikuchihara is so necessary to Kazama Squad's concept. People who think he has to put up with Kikuchihara against his will for the sake of their duty as Border agents, because why else would he bother with someone like that?

Kikuchihara doesn't need Utagawa to defend him. Not against people who so obviously doesn't understand anything. That's what Utagawa tells himself when he feels the urge.

It's not about Kikuchihara when it comes down to it; it's Utagawa and his need to be useful, to do things for others, to make them happy.

He'd thought it was normal, the kind of thing everyone was taught as they were growing up. And then the first invasion happened. Knowing intellectually that everyone was fearing for their lives doesn't do much to help an 11 year old's trauma.

Maybe it's because he knows now that providing support just because you can isn't as ordinary as he was taught, but it makes him want to help people all the more. Who else will?

* * *

It always feels weird the first few days back from an expedition. Having to get used to your physical body again, being surrounded by the ordinary rhythms of everyday life, even eating fresh food. It's a lot to get used to.

It feels harder this time; they haven't messed up on an expedition this badly in ages.

It was an amateur mistake. Utagawa and Kikuchihara hiding at the very end of an out-of-the-way alley after they'd discovered that the nation they're visiting wasn't as peaceful as they were led to believe. The first rule was 'always leave yourself a way out'. But they had panicked; the wound in Kikuchihara's shoulder meant they couldn't stay where they were, but they needed to wait for Tachikawa Squad to provide a big enough distraction so they could sneak back to the ship. They had waited too long.

Utagawa knew it happened, sometimes; soldiers using the commotion of battle to get away with crimes they couldn't otherwise. Like the one standing at the entrance of the alleyway, using his trion body to overpower a small child of indeterminate gender. The soldier was twice the size of the shaking form in his arms; the child's terrified screams unconsciously making Utagawa step forward.

It was a bad moment. There were only two choices: kill the soldier so he wouldn't take knowledge of their existence back to his boss or allow the rape of a child. That the soldier deactivating his trion body allowed the child to gain the upper hand and stab him to death without their intervention was only a slight consolation.

Kazama had found them after it was all over, the child scared away from the body by Tachikawa Squad's theatrics. He did not judge them for their blunder, an unnecessary kindness that just makes Utagawa feel more ashamed. They should never have allowed themselves to be trapped there in the first place.

What he isn't ashamed of was stepping forward. Had the child not done it, Utagawa would have stopped the soldier himself. A fact Kikuchihara was very loud and condemning of on the ship the whole way back to Earth. Utagawa didn't mind. He knows Kikuchihara would have been with him every step of the way. Just as Kikuchihara is with him every step of the way now.

It's not as simple as mutual reliance. It's about everyone learning to look after themselves because that's what they have to rely on after the first invasion. It's about having to learn independence in Border because the strength of the team can only go so far without the strength of the individual. It's about how, despite all that, Kikuchihara needs him in the most obvious and obfuscating way possible. And how Utagawa needs to be needed.

* * *

Dreams are a common product of expeditions; Utagawa knows the drill by now. What's different is that while everyone else dreams of what is freshest in their minds, for Utagawa it is always the first expedition Kazama Squad participated in.

Nothing out of the ordinary had happened; there was no fighting, no politics, no one even got a paper cut – if a paper cut was even possible for trion bodies. Nevertheless, Utagawa remembered, and dreamed; the aftermath of some kind of battle they had happened upon, the corpses stinking in the sun, and how conscientious they had gone through the bodies because you never know what had been left behind. Utagawa had cut off all senses except sight and the very limits of his sense of touch by the third body. But it was too late by then.

Utagawa wakes to an empty house and a heartbeat so loud, he doesn't need to be hooked into Kikuchihara's ears to hear. He lies there, listening to his own panting for a while, until the sound of his breathing is louder than the beating of his heart.

A hand reaches automatically for his phone. There is only one person Utagawa turns to after a nightmare. One person who knows what Utagawa needs, who needs Utagawa in turn. One who allows himself to be weak in front of Utagawa, allows Utagawa to support him.

_I had another one._

Kikuchihara can hear the deepest, most hidden parts of Utagawa without him having to lift a finger.


End file.
